Nightmare
by VespertineFlora
Summary: Sopor slime was meant to suppress the trolls' dark subconscious, so when the trolls join their human companions at night, they can only escape that darkness for so long. Karkat learns this lesson the hard way. JohnKat fluff, rated for gore/violence.


Karkat has a horrible nightmare. JohnKat fluff, rated for gore/violence.

* * *

Of course the entire concept of a bed had been foreign to Karkat at first. Humans slept on a contraption made of springs and foam, covered in cloths? How… strange. Over time, Karkat had spent a night here or there on a human bed, and he supposed he could see why they were used to it, though there was something particularly comforting about curling up inside his recuperacoon for a night of slumber, something different about it that Karkat just couldn't put his finger on.

Kanaya had been the first to discover it.

Rose and she had developed red feelings for one another over their time in the Veil (if Kanaya hadn't had such feelings much sooner than that), so after the game, they had arranged a living situation which involved Kanaya staying with Rose, and, as was the human custom, they shared a bed.

After about a week of sleeping on the thing, Kanaya's sleep was plagued with unpleasant nightmares that seemed to only grow steadily worse each night. Eventually, Kanaya jumped awake from a dream in which she'd been mowing down a line of her friends with her chainsaw, unable to adequately describe how... real it had been. How she had felt the weight of the machine in her hands and felt the pressure of the blade slicing through skin and the resistance of bone as each tooth cut though limbs and spinal cords. The following evening, testing a theory and hoping that she wasn't simply going mad, she returned to her recuperacoon for the night and slept peacefully once again. The night after that, she was able to return to Rose's side without any significant disturbances.

It turned out that the sopor slime they slept in really did suppress some sort of darkness within them. Sleeping in it kept their dark subconscious at bay, and after Kanaya retested this theory on herself over the next month, she spread news to her troll friends that sleeping outside of their recuperacoons for too long could prove mentally hazardous.

Karkat hadn't had to worry about that at the time. It wasn't until his haphazard confession to John, and John's very surprising reply, that the thought of regularly sleeping on a bed even crossed his mind. It wasn't until three weeks after their confession that they finally met up, and it was a couple weeks after that that John asked him to stay the night. After a few awkward moments of trying to get comfortable with John wanting to cuddle up against him (which… really wasn't unpleasant, Karkat had to admit to himself), they settled in and fell asleep and their first night together was fine.

The second night wasn't much different, though Karkat awoke once during the night with a vague, sourceless feeling of dread. All he had to do was look down at John's peaceful sleeping face next to him to settle down and fall back asleep.

On the third night, he tossed and turned more, haunted by a dream of being hunted down by some formless shadow, something evil. No matter how fast he ran in the dream, it never seemed to be fast enough, and even as his lungs were heaving and his body ached with the strain, he felt like he was running in slow motion, like the creature chasing him was millimeters from clawing at his back and ripping him to shreds. He woke up the next morning wondering if he should tell John. He debated with himself most of the day, but hadn't reached a definite decision by the end of that night and then figured it was too late to broach the subject so he let it go and settled in with John for another night, placating himself with the knowledge that Kanaya had lasted a week, so the dreams shouldn't get that much worse.

Once again, he found himself running, already out of breath, gasping, his lungs burning. He was hurling himself down a long hallway, ignoring the sudden screams he could hear in the distance and the way he was sure a hand would grab him at any second. Finally, he approached a door, the handle slippery with wet purple blood, but there was no time to pause, no time to think, whatever was chasing him was about to grab him, and he burst through the door, slammed it shut behind him. A momentary feeling of peace settled over him and he pressed his forehead against the door, trying to catch his breath…

When he heard a sick, wheezing _hooonk_ and his heart stopped beating. He suddenly didn't want to turn around, but knew he had no choice. Slowly, he looked around and then his eyes were on Gamzee's bloodied body, purple pooling all over the floor, Gamzee's eyes open and staring and lifeless and a sickle planted firmly in his chest. A light in the ceiling suddenly turned on with a loud CLANK, lighting up the rest of the room, revealing Kanaya's shredded torso, limbs all at awkward, unnatural angles, Terezi's abdomen sliced apart and teal smears of internal organs that had been dragged from her body.

Karkat stared with wide eyes at the bodies of his friends, not breathing for a long moment, when suddenly the lights flickered off and on, and he looked down at his hands and they were covered in purple and jade and teal, and he awoke from the dream with a gasp, sitting upright, fighting for air.

John rubbed sleep from his eyes and sat up next to him, looking at him with concern. His hands touched his shoulders, eased Karkat's tension slowly. After telling John it was just a nightmare, Karkat was hugged, and the troll resisted the urge to tell John to stop coddling him, because coddling was all he could think to want at the moment. Eventually, they got back to sleep together, though when Karkat woke up the next morning, he was still exhausted.

This had become a more pressing issue, though John didn't know that. It wasn't as if Kanaya (or anyone else) had gone out of her way to tell John about the effects of trolls not sleeping in sopor slime. No one thought to themselves, "oh well, one day John might be sleeping with a troll, better clue him in about this nightmare shit." No one had been expected to think that, but now Karkat didn't know how to bring it up. He didn't know how to tell John that he couldn't share in his hopes of sleeping next to him every night, not when John seemed so eager to sleep practically on top of him and all over him and it was actually quite… cute. As much as Karkat was NOT going to admit that aloud.

So the following night, he chose to sleep next to John again, hoping that maybe Kanaya was wrong and everything would be fine.

She wasn't, of course.

The dream started out innocently enough. He and John were walking down a hallway, possibly the same hallway from his previous dreams, though he wasn't really thinking about it. John's hand was in his, warm and soft, and for a while, that was all Karkat focused on… until he felt it. He felt the shadow suddenly looming over him, behind him, but before he could even start to run, he felt a dark madness grip his heart and brain and then he wasn't in control anymore, just helplessly watching himself move suddenly, twisting and flinging John against the wall, where he landed face first with a THUMP and a CRACK.

Karkat's hand was released at that point, and John stumbled back, hand going to his bleeding nose, that mutant cherry red blood dribbling down over his lips, slipping between his fingers. He gave Karkat a strange, bemused look as if to ask why, but the look only lingered on his face for a moment as Karkat drew back his fist and railed John in the mouth. He felt the pressure of bone beneath the skin bruising his knuckles, and he knew that John had cried out, though he hadn't heard it, only heard the sound of flesh and bone connecting with force.

Both John's hands moved to cover his face at that point, but Karkat wasn't having it. He threw himself forward, gripped at John's wrists and flung him back against the wall, pinning him, and only a second later, his knee was ramming itself into his stomach and John wheezed, air passing his blood-wet and busted lips in a rush, a spray of aerated blood splattering Karkat's shirt.

When he released John, the teen crumpled to the floor, his chest heaving visibly; Karkat didn't give him time to catch his breath. He kicked him hard in the shoulder, sent him skidding across the floor.

Karkat moved towards him and loomed over him, feeling shockingly empty, devoid of pity or love for the trembling teen lying in front of him. John looked up at him with his bloodied face and clear terror in his bright blue eyes and Karkat felt nothing but the desire to steal the life and love and pain and confusion from those eyes, permanently.

Suddenly, Karkat felt the familiar weight of his sickle in his hand, his fingers wrapped firmly around the grip of the blade. He dropped to his knees, straddling John's hips, keeping him pinned again, and those blue eyes were pleading with him as the sickle rose higher and higher above his head, but that look only made Karkat need to end this more, and he swung his blade down, the tip embedding itself an inch or so deep into John's shoulder. Again, Karkat knew John had cried out, but heard no sound, only saw his eyes widen dramatically. Karkat yanked the sickle out roughly and that blood created in image of his own erupted from the wound, soaking his shirt, slowly pooling on the ground beneath him.

But it wasn't enough. He needed to see more of that blood. He slashed forward again, the tip digging into his chest and catching firmly on a rib, scraping against the bone as he withdrew, only to slash forward again, this time hitting his collarbone.

Tears were in John's eyes, a new one rolling from his eyes with each hack, each one igniting some terrible rage in Karkat's chest, making him bring down the weapon with more force until he finally felt a rib bone CRACK beneath his sickle and saw John's lips form a silent scream and then he couldn't stand the sight of those tears and the next time he brought the blade down he knew exactly where to aim.

The sharp tip slid effortlessly into the soft eye socket, sinking in smoothly, probably embedding itself deep in the squishy think pan tissue behind it.

John became still at that point other than the shallow rise and fall of his chest. Karkat ripped the blade back, leaving a deep dark, gory hole where an eye had once been. The other eye spoke of defeat, but Karkat was far from done. He drew the sickle back again and again, hacking at scalp and cheek until the skin began to fall away from the bone, leaving bits of muscle and flesh attached to the slick red skull beneath it, leaving tiny, sharp nicks in the firm bone, chiseling away at it bit by bit, all the while, Karkat felt John's chest moving beneath him, watched that remaining eye watching him without hope.

As if hearing a far off whisper, Karkat could hear John calling his name, the first he'd heard his actual voice, as he hacked and hacked, bits of brain and blood and skull hitting his face and shirt, the walls, the ceiling, as he burrowed the sickle deeper and deeper in his skull. The sound of his name grew louder and louder, more desperate, and suddenly the entire hallway began to tremble as if caught in the aftershocks of an earthquake.

"Karkat!"

John's voice in his ear and his hands shaking him finally yanked him from the horrible dream, and Karkat was immediately hit with a wave of nausea. He tore himself from John's side (lest that dark urge decide to linger even after the dream was over), stumbling over himself to get to the bathroom. Ripping the door open, he skidded to the floor, face over the toilet bowl, and abandoned the contents of his stomach into it. The acid burned his throat and the aftertaste lingering in his mouth was coppery to the point that he heaved again, gave up what little else his stomach held.

The tears in his eyes hurt more than the purging.

"Karkat, what's going on?" John had followed him into the bathroom and his voice was seeping with worry. "What happened?"

"Get OUT," he shouted. He was trembling, though whether that was from vomiting or from everything else he wasn't sure. "Get the FUCK away from me!"

"Kar, what are you—"

"GO, John," he clenched his fists shut, his eyes, fought down another wave of nausea. He wanted to turn and look at John. He wanted to know he was awake for sure and that everything was okay, but he was terrified he would turn around and see that John's face was half gore-slick skull.

John never did listen very well.

Karkat suddenly felt John's hands on his shoulders (and he nearly jumped out of his skin, nearly attempted to rip himself away from John, but then couldn't stand the thought of doing anything that sudden), felt John's stomach and chest pressing against his back as his arms wrapped around his shoulders. John's body felt ridiculously warm in comparison to the cold tile of the bathroom floor beneath him.

"St-stop," Karkat protested, faltering and giving in to the violent shaking, though part of him was terrified to have John right there after what he'd just done. He could still FEEL it, the tiny bits of flesh hitting his face, the resistance of bone, the smell of blood. It was all so clear, as if it'd been put to muscle memory, as if he really had just heartlessly... "You don't know what... I just.. I just murdered the shit out of you!"

That wasn't quite true, of course. At the end of the dream, John had still been alive, impossibly alive, staring at him as if to ask why. There had been no accusation, no anger… just sadness and disbelief, which was far worse than if he'd just seen hatred in that remaining eye.

He felt John shaking his head against his own, holding him a bit tighter. "No, you didn't. I'm right here. It was only a dream, Kar. A… really fucked up dream, apparently, but a dream."

"No!" he protested, curling forward, trying to put distance between himself and John because he didn't deserve his affection after what he'd just done to him, "You don't GET it, you weren't THERE. You didn't feel it! I was hacking the fuck out of you and I could feel everything! There was blood EVERYWHERE and you were crying and I didn't even FUCKING care!" Reminding himself of the dream only brought fresh tears to his eyes, and even though he swallowed hard, a sudden sob caught in his throat.

"Shhhh," John hushed him softly. He felt the human's face pressing against his hair as he pulled him back against him again.

Being comforted by the person he'd just killed made him feel vile; he wasn't worthy of this. Why could John just be as angry at him as he was at himself? "Just stop! I just fucking destroyed you, would you PLEASE fucking be PISSED at me? Can you please just hate me?"

Suddenly, John let go of him and Karkat wondered for a moment if that had worked, if John would now leave him alone to wallow in peace.

But of course he wasn't. John was just moving around him and then Karkat felt his hands on his face, turning it towards him, and the troll squeezed his eyes shut tighter, unable to stomach the thought of looking at him, still afraid his face would be ripped to shreds.

"Kar, look at me. Everything's okay, just open your eyes." His thumbs stroked Karkat's face, gently wiping the tinted tears from his skin.

As much as he wanted to, Karkat couldn't resist the soft request in John's voice and tentatively... he cracked open an eye. A wave of desperate relief washed over him to see John's softly smiling face, whole and perfect and beautiful, and the prolonged terror of the nightmare finally began to break down.

"See? I'm alive. You didn't hurt me or anything. And you're not going to, are you?"

"Of course not!" Karkat snapped quickly. He didn't… he NEVER wanted to relive that dream, or anything like it. He didn't want to hurt John ever, even though part of him felt like he wasn't going to be able to help that at some point.

John leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, telling him in a gentle tone, "Then how could I hate you? It was only a bad dream, okay? It's all over now."

Finally tired of protesting, Karkat gave in; he pressed his face against John's chest and threw his arms around him. After a short second, John returned the embrace, hands rubbing his back, until Karkat eventually felt himself relaxing, his tremors fading and his thoughts becoming calm. He couldn't… stand another night like this. He couldn't imagine was sort of horrors would greet him the next time he went to sleep, and he didn't want to. There was no choice… he'd have to explain this to John. Tentatively, he told him that they wouldn't be able to sleep together, and John protested at first, until Karkat adequately explained the situation. As soon as he heard that sleeping in his recuperacoon would make the nightmares go away, John was happy to let him, not wanting to see Karkat in such a state again, and they made some sort of plans to get a recuperacoon into the apartment the following day.

That night, Karkat was hesitant to fall back to sleep, afraid the nightmares would return, but he let John hold him close and he tentatively stroked the teen's hair as he drifted asleep against him. Eventually, Karkat dozed lightly and let the shallow sleep take him into the next morning, comforted vaguely by the thought of returning to his slime the following night.


End file.
